


Thicker Than Water

by Charm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, First Time, Het, Incest, Jealousy, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charm/pseuds/Charm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hated Fleur for being beautiful, and he hated Bill for wanting her; but most of all he hated himself for wishing that Bill wanted him instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thicker Than Water

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the afamilyaffair FQF, Slash Challenge 7: Bill/Ron. Ron's jealous of Bill/Fleur. Eventually he realises that it's not Bill he's jealous of. 
> 
> Many thanks to my lovely betas anise_anise and rubykate.

Ron tip-toed silently from the room he and Harry were sharing this last week of summer, the latch to the door falling quietly into place. The heat was becoming unbearable in the tiny room, only adding to the fiery effect of his Cannons-orange covered walls.

Ron could hear the distant and relatively quiet rattling of the ghoul up in the attic, but other than that the house was silent, its groans having quieted sometime after midnight.

Ron glanced down at his watch, lit by the dim moonlight falling through one of the windows along the staircase. 3:17. It was later than he had thought. Harry had fallen asleep before his head hit the pillow, as usual, when his mum shooed them off to bed at eleven. Ron had lain there, tossing and turning, apparently for the last 4 hours.

He sighed and began making his way down the narrow, rickety staircase, as quietly as he could. He was perhaps ten steps from the bottom when he heard a low moan, followed shortly after by a suspicious creak. Ron looked around in haste before veering quickly to the left and edging towards the slice of golden light shining from the doorway off the stair. Bill’s doorway.

He glanced around one last time and fell lightly to his knees, pressing against the wall and peering through the crack in the doorway.

The room was dimly lit, a solitary candle balancing precariously upon Bill’s dresser, its flame guttering in the breeze from the open window.

Ron could hear someone moaning, the same someone he had heard out in the hall.  It was Fleur. Fleur who, from what Ron could see, was sitting atop Bill, pushing her self up and down desperately. Bill’s hands skidded across her thighs, fingers splayed and digging into her skin ever so slightly. He couldn’t see Bill’s face from where he was from, but he didn’t need to.

Ron’s mind was flooded with a memory from the summer after fourth year. He and the twins had been out in the meadow, having a game of Quidditch with Charlie, when Ron saw Pig scrambling through the sky, somehow managing to carry a letter. Harry’s response as to whether or not he could go to the World Cup with them! He slid off his broomstick and rushed back inside the house and up to his room, where Pig was jumping up and down excitedly upon his bedspread.

He untied the letter hurriedly and grinned as he read Harry’s reply. Tearing to his mum and dad’s room, where they were both still asleep, he shouted the good news. They groaned that it was splendid news and promptly fell back asleep. Rushing back down the stairs to get back to Quidditch and tell the others, he suddenly remembered Bill and pushed his door open without a second thought.

Bill was sprawled on his bed, jeans pushed down around his knees, t-shirt thrown on the floor. His cock was red and hard as it pushed through his hand and Ron could hear him making little grunting noises, his faced screwed up, mouth hanging open.

Ron stared, transfixed, and unsure as of what to do. _You can’t just stand here watching him have a wank!_ Ron thought frantically to himself, _Well, maybe if you were really quiet … No! What are you thinking? He’s your brother, now just make up some excuse and get the fuck out of here!_

Ron cleared his throat, all at once ever so thankful for his trusty inner monologue, “Er, sorry, meant to knock.” And ran out of the room and out the back door toward the meadow as fast as he could. He didn’t wait to see Bill’s reaction and he had never told anyone that it had happened. As far as he knew, neither had Bill.

The moans coming from just inside the door were growing in volume, and Ron swallowed thickly around the lump that had formed in his throat. He could feel a thin, solitary bead of sweat slipping down his temple, and as he reached up to brush it back into his damp hair, his palm against the wall slipped and his elbow landed on the wood floor with a loud crack.

The sounds from inside silenced immediately, and Ron froze, barely able to think, let alone move. He could hear quiet murmuring inside, and then slow, quiet footsteps approaching the door. Ron somehow found the presence of mind to move and launched himself out of the doorway and up the stairs as quietly as he could, darting into the bathroom just as he heard the door below creak open, and Bill whisper “Is anyone out there?”

Ron held his breath, willing the battered bathroom door he was pressed against to remain silent and not betray his presence. He could feel it slipping toward the wall behind him, and sat forward taking his weight off of it. Nevertheless, it smacked the wall and sent a groan through the joints of its hinges. He heard Bill step out onto the landing, and could see his reflection in the bathroom mirror, curious and just about to climb up the first step towards the bathroom, when, thank Merlin, the ghoul decided to take up his banging and clanging on the pipes with a vengeance, and the house was flooded with his clatter.

Ron heard Bill chuckle and call, “It’s only the ghoul, love,” as he shut the bedroom door behind him. Ron scrambled up from the floor and flew up to his room, heart pounding along with the ghoul’s merciful racket, wrenching the door open and stepping inside. Harry stirred when the door creaked shut, muttering something about a Snitch, but Ron was too preoccupied to care and threw himself down on his bed, chest heaving.

He glanced down, and confirmed what he could already feel. His erection was straining the thin, worn material of his pajama bottoms, stubborn in its firmness and utter refusal to back down. His pulse was quick with desire, though he tried like hell to push away the images that were flooding his heat-addled brain. Not images of Fleur or even Hermione, but images of his own brother, images pulsing with his longing to be the one on top of Bill. Or better yet, Bill on top of him.

He groaned, disgusted with himself and turned over, cock pressed firmly against the mattress, in hopes that his erection would diminish and he could get some sleep for once. It gave a twitch as though to say, “Not a chance,” and Ron sighed.

He hadn’t fallen asleep without wanking for months now, and it seemed tonight would be no different. Ron rolled over once more, sliding his hand quickly past the waistband of his pajamas, and quietly thanked any god that was listening for Harry’s ability to sleep through just about anything.

...

A surreptitious glance from the kitchen told Ron that his hunch had been correct. Fleur was leaving. And he would once again have Bill all to himself, well, as much as one could in a house filled with eight other people, one more due to arrive in three days. Ugh. He didn’t even want to think about the fact that Hermione would be back at the Burrow so soon.

He could hear the rest of his family cheerily saying goodbye to Fleur from up in his room, all of them so adoring. Ron felt like he was going to be sick. The thought of having to see her constantly, on his arm, at his side, holding his _children_ for Merlin’s sake, was enough to make his stomach turn. He lay down on his bed and waited for the farewells to end, so he could once again find a little quiet.

Ron was just dozing off when there was a gentle knock on his door.

He cleared his throat and sat up. “Yeah?”

The door opened and Bill swept in, hair loose from its ponytail and swinging past his shoulders. He looked beautiful, as usual, but he was frowning.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Fleur? She’s about to leave.”

“No, but you’ll say goodbye for me, won’t you?” Ron was unable to keep all of the bitterness out of his words.

“What’s wrong with you?” asked Bill, his tone somewhere between concern and annoyance.

“Nothing, leave me alone.” He flopped back on his bed, his back to Bill.

He heard Bill sigh. “Fine, Ron.” The door shut a little harder than usual as he left, and Ron’s head began to ache.

Why had he been so short with Bill? He didn’t even know. _Its not Bill’s fault you fancy him, you bloody pervert._ His own thoughts echoed through his head and he could feel all of his emotions bubbling just below the surface. Shame, lust, love, hate, disgust. Hate the strongest of them all. He hated Fleur for being beautiful, and he hated Bill for wanting her; but most of all he hated himself for wishing that Bill wanted him instead.  
  
...

The heat had yet to let up and Ron had resigned himself to a state of perpetual misery. He looked forward to returning to Hogwarts for once; the castle’s Cooling Charms were far more powerful than the mediocre ones his mum and dad had put up as soon as the heat had begun to settle in.

He could hear Harry, Ginny, and the twins laughing and splashing about in the lake from where he lay on the grass, gazing up at the sky. They'd asked Ron to come in with them, but he had declined, content to stay where he was, listening to the distant sounds of their merriment. Ron didn’t feel much like having fun, not when he felt so miserable inside.

The heat was starting to get to him and Ron decided he best go inside soon or he’d have a violent sunburn to deal with. He didn’t need that along with everything else that was going wrong in his life. He stood, brushing at the grass stains on his trousers, and made his way back toward the house.

“Oi! Where do you think you’re going?” Harry asked, and it took Ron a moment to realize that a hand was on his shoulder; cold lake water ran down onto his bare forearms, causing him to shiver.

“Sun’s making me dizzy, going to go lay down for a bit,” Ron answered, stepping out of Harry’s reach.

“You alright, mate? Everything okay?” Harry’s brow furrowed in concern, making Ron want to punch him in the face. He was sick of concern, sick of Harry worrying about him, always asking him if he was okay. He was fine, for fuck’s sake!

Ron pinched back a sneer of contempt and forced a smile. “I’m fine, just a bit of a headache.”

Harry gave him his crooked grin and patted him on the back before running back to the lake and diving in. Ron was relieved but felt a vague twinge of guilt. Frustrating as it could be, Harry's worrying always made him feel safe, made him feel loved.

His worn shoes scuffed through the dry grass, crunching all the way back to the Burrow. The shoes had most certainly seen better days, they had gone through both Fred and Charlie, and he 'd had them for the past year himself. He wondered what they would look like if there weren’t spells holding them together. He was positive they shouldn’t be wearable.

His mum was having tea at a friend’s house while Dad was at work, probably until late that night. Ron remembered him mentioning some sort of breach in Muggle Relations protocol just this morning, though he neglected to pay attention to the details. The back door slammed shut behind him and he peeled his shirt, soaked with sweat, from his body as he climbed the stairs. The heat was so much more stifling inside, making him claustrophobic and short of breath; he threw  his window open as soon as he reached his room, grateful for the slight breeze ruffling the orange curtains.

He flopped down on his bed, wishing like hell he was allowed to do magic over the summer so he could cool his sheets, and resolved to take a nap to escape the heat.

A knock at his door interrupted him before he had time to even begin making good on his resolution. “What?” he answered, not a little bit annoyed.

The door opened, and his breath caught in his throat as Bill stepped in.

“Yes?” he asked, wondering what Bill could possibly have to say to him.

“Ron--,” Bill began, but Ron didn’t let him finish.

“Look, I’m sorry about not saying good-bye to your girlfriend, alright?” Ron snapped, voicing the first thing that sprang to mind.

“That’s not why I came in here,” Bill said calmly, gesturing to Ron’s bed. Ron’s heart sped up. “Can I sit? I need to talk to you.”

Ron swallowed, audibly he was sure, and nodded. _He’s your brother, he just wants to talk. Stop this **right now**._

“What about?” Ron managed, eyeing Bill suspiciously.

Bill sat at the edge of his bed and took a deep breath. “Listen Ron, I know things haven’t been going well between us lately, and well, I wanted to fix it, or at least talk about it.”

Ron remained silent.

“Have I done something?” Bill asked, and Ron could feel his eyes on him, though he kept his face turned away. “What’s wrong, Ron? We’re all worried about you; you’ve been so distant lately, even from Harry. I think he’s the most worried of us all; he says it feels like he’s losing his best friend.”

Ron snorted. “Nothing's wrong. When are you lot going to get that through your thick heads? And you talking to me isn’t going to make anything better, nothing is! So just leave me the bloody hell alone.”

Bill frowned. “No, Ron. You’re my _brother_ for Merlin’s sake. I’m not just going to sit by and let you wallow in depression or whatever the fuck your problem is! Is it something I did?”

“Why are you so sure it’s you, maybe I’m just pissed off with the whole world! What makes you so special?” Ron sneered at him, his eyes burning; it took all he had not to cry.

“Because you’re treating me shittier than anyone else is why, because…,” Bill broke off, the confusion in his face lifting as though he had it all figured out. “Oh. It’s--,”

“It’s what Bill!?” Ron asked, much louder than he’d intended. It was getting harder to hold back the tears, harder to keep himself from breaking down in front of Bill.

“It’s Fleur isn’t it? I -- Harry mentioned you had a crush on her back in fourth year, but, I -- I didn’t know you still liked her! Why didn’t you say something Ron?” Bill had stood and was gesturing wildly with his hands. “We could have at least talked about it; I don’t want this to make you hate me!”

And Ron finally did let go of his tears, but only because he was laughing. Laughing so hard he couldn’t hold them back any longer. “Y-you,” hysterical laughter was spilling from his mouth as hot tears streamed down his face.

“What! What is so damned funny, Ron?” Bill asked fiercely, looking angrier by the second.

“I don’t want your bloody girlfriend, you idiot! I can’t stand her!!” Ron stared at him, his eyes pleading with Bill to understand, to not make him say it out loud, to not give it a voice, a reality.

Bill looked utterly lost, and stared right back waiting for an explanation. “Then what is it, I don’t understand.”

Ron stood up now as well and took a few steps toward Bill, close enough that he could feel their knees bumping up against one another. It was only in that moment that he realized he was finally as tall as Bill, they were almost exactly the same height, and he no longer had to look up to see right into those pale blue eyes, eyes that had always reminded him of the sky. Eyes that had lit up when he was just a little boy and took his first ride on a broomstick. Eyes that told Ron he would always be there for him, that he would never let him down.

His voice was little more than a whisper. “Don’t make me say it Bill, please don’t make me say it.”

Ron could see the realization come over Bill’s face. He shook his head, “No, Ron. No.”

Ron only nodded. “Yes,” he whispered, and gently pressed his mouth against Bill’s, tears still sliding down his cheeks.

And Bill let him. Didn’t push him away, didn’t yell, but _let_ Ron kiss him, his lips salty with tears and trembling with apprehension. The realization of that was more than Ron could bear and he pulled away, frightened, and dropped his head onto Bill’s shoulder, warm and solid, whispering, “Please don’t be mad at me, Bill. Please don’t hate me.” Over and over until it lost all meaning.

...

Bill gently pulled away after long moments and Ron collapsed back onto the bed, head in his hands, his shoulders jerking slightly with his sobs.

Bill wanted to go, wanted to pretend this had never happened and go back to the way life had always been. Back to when Ron wasn’t a wreck, wasn’t a mess, wasn’t in _love_ with him for fuck’s sake. But he couldn’t. And he as much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t leave Ron, not like this. He couldn’t destroy him like that - he was his brother.

He fell to his knees at Ron’s feet and pushed his hands away from tear-stained cheeks. Ron looked up at him through clear, deep brown eyes and was once again the little boy Bill had always spoiled, who'd tagged along with him from the moment he’d learned to walk, and had looked up to him above all others.

Bill gathered him up in his arms. “Never, Ronnie. I could never hate you.” He rocked him back and forth gently and felt Ron’s hands slither around his waist to hold on for dear life, the pads of his fingers digging deep into Bill’s flesh. He couldn’t do this to Ron.

Bill pushed him back and studied him for a moment at arms length. He looked beautiful; he felt beautiful. So warm and soft and wanting. He couldn’t say no, he wouldn’t say no, not to Ron. He closed his eyes and dipped his head down to catch Ron’s lips before either of them had the chance to reconsider. A surprised sound escaped Ron, but he immediately pushed back against him and his mouth opened hungrily beneath Bill’s.

He pushed his tongue roughly inside Ron’s mouth that was burning with heat and bitter with tears. Ron’s tongue was slick against his own as it fought with his, frantically scrambling to get inside Bill’s mouth.

Bill pulled away again and smiled. “Have you … ever?” he asked gently, though the answer was obvious.

His skin flushed bright red and Ron cast his eyes down mumbling, “No, never.”

Bill stroked his sweaty hair back away from his brow and laid a gentle kiss upon his forehead. “’s okay, just needed to know.”

“I want-- I wanted you to be my first,” he whispered, clinging to Bill’s t-shirt. “I need you to be. Please?”

 _This is the moment where everything changes._ Bill pushed the thought aside and surged forward, pressing Ron down onto his back, and devouring Ron’s mouth with his own. Ron’s erection pressed against his stomach, hot and hard, and he felt a spike of fever rush through his blood as he realized it was all for him, all because of him.

He made his way down Ron's neck, sucking viciously at the juncture of his throat, hard enough to feel the blood surging just beneath the surface. Ron moaned, loud, and reached his left hand out wildly. His fingers caught around Bill’s wand in his pocket and he asked Bill to cast a Silencing and Locking Spell. Bill did and threw the wand to the floor, leaning back over Ron. A part of Bill couldn’t help but be proud. Leave it to Ron to remember the important things; he had always been a bit like Percy that way.

He smiled against Ron’s neck and brushed his fingers slowly up his sides, along his ribs, pushing his t-shirt up as he went. Ron got the idea soon enough and leaned up a bit so he could pull it off over his head.

His nipples were hard and pink, surrounded by a haze of freckles that matched Bill’s, and tasted so sweet when Bill leaned down for a taste, innocence and desire swirling together to create the headiest of feelings as Bill grazed his lips warmly across Ron's flesh.

Ron groaned and bucked his hips up, his back arching. “You taste delicious,” Bill murmured.

Ron’s breath was drawing shorter as Bill made his way down to his belly, pausing to lave his tongue over and around his navel, tasting it as well and moaning at the flavor of Ron’s sweat-sweet skin.

He sat up a bit and looked down at his little brother. Lips kiss-red and swollen, nipples pink and hard and wet from Bill's own mouth, stomach quivering in anticipation; he was the picture of sin. _You made him that way._ The thought surged straight to his groin and his cock grew harder, begging for release.

He ran his fingertips slowly along the waistband of Ron’s jeans, flicked the button open and pulled down the zip. Ron’s cock was hard and wet, straining against his pants. Bill quickly freed it of its constraints and pulled trousers and pants off in one yank, throwing them to the floor. Before Ron had time to react, Bill was back on his knees and had swallowed him down in one quick motion.

Ron cried out and arched his back severely, his cock sliding down Bill’s throat, slipping wetly against the back of it. Bill pulled back and lapped gently at the head, swallowing the glistening drops of pre-come that had begun to gather there. He pulled away and looked once again into Ron’s eyes.

“Want to fuck you,” Bill whispered.

Ron’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Will you let me?” Bill asked, worried that he'd scared him, even if Ron had initiated all of it.

He heard Ron’s breath hitch, was about to tell him never mind, when Ron nodded. “Yes. Please, gods _yes_.”

Bill gulped, and for the first time in a long time he was terrified. “Alright then, turn over.” He moved to stand up.

“No.” Ron grabbed his hands and held him in place. “I want to be able to look in your eyes.” He blushed again, and Bill decided it was the most endearing thing he'd ever seen.

Bill stood and pulled his own t-shirt off, soaked through with sweat from both he and Ron and the summer heat that shimmered around them. He pushed his jeans off hurriedly and kneeled down between Ron’s knees. He ran his tongue slowly, delicately up Ron's thigh and nuzzled deliciously against his hip, licking and sucking at the sharp jut of bone and drinking in the quiet mewling sounds Ron didn't even appear to be aware he was making.

“Turn over, Ron,” he whispered.

“No, please, I--,”

“Just for a minute, I promise you’ll like it. Want to do this first.” Bill reassured him and then rolled him over so his cock was pressed firmly between stomach and mattress.

He licked slowly across the crease between arse and thigh and stroked his finger in the crevice of Ron’s arse cheeks, seeking the sweet pucker that lay between.

Ron shuddered beneath him and let out a sigh of both desire and trepidation. That was what Bill was waiting for. Parting Ron’s arse cheeks, he exposed his pink hole to the damp heat of the room and blew cool air across it. Ron shivered and pushed back toward him a little bit. Bill spread his cheeks wider and slowly licked his way up from just behind Ron's balls to the top of his crack. He inhaled deeply, the musky scent going straight to his cock, and buried his tongue deep inside his little brother’s arse. Ron cried out and bucked wildly on the bed, thrusting back sharply onto Bill’s slick tongue, humping the bed in frenzy. Gentle hands steadied Ron’s hips and pushed him back down onto the mattress. Bill drew away, massaging his hole a few more times with the pad of his thumb, and placed a kiss to the base of Ron’s spine.

Ron rolled over onto his back, his limbs slack, his cock harder than ever against his belly.

“That was brilliant,” he breathed, his mouth breaking into the first smile Bill had seen on him in days, perhaps even weeks.

“Told you.” Bill smirked and pressed a kiss to Ron’s stomach, just below his navel.

Ron laughed, and the sound fell around him like liquid gold. He remembered now why he had come into Ron’s room. He missed his little brother, missed his stupid jokes and the sound of his goofy laughter filling the Burrow as it had every summer, even after he had moved away. Ron was one of the reasons he managed to make it back every summer; he felt like he owed it to him as his big brother, especially since Charlie rarely made it home, even for Christmas.

Bill smiled at him. “Are you sure, Ron?”

Ron’s laughter stopped. “Yes,” was all he said but there was such conviction behind it Bill was left with little doubt as to his sincerity.

Bill nodded and turned, reaching for his wand where it had rolled under Ron’s nightstand. Pushing Ron’s knees open and back onto the bed, he muttered a Lubrication Charm and pushed his index finger gently into the tight, slippery heat. To his surprise, it slid in easily, and it was only a moment before he was able to add another. He glanced up at Ron, who looked completely mortified.

“I’ve been practicing.” He looked away from Bill. “At night, before I go to bed.”

Bill blinked, a bit shocked, but didn’t let it show on his face. “Do you think of me?” he whispered, his voice husky and low.

Ron nodded eagerly.

“Good.” He added another finger, stretching Ron wider still. “That’s good.”

Looking relieved, Ron began to squirm beneath him and thrust down on his fingers hard when Bill hit that little spot he had learned about when he was only 15, a year younger than Ron. The fact that it was Severus Snape that had taught him Ron needn’t ever know.

“I’m ready Bill, please ... please.” Ron begged, and Bill slipped his fingers out, rubbing the lubricant over his cock until it was slick.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” he told Ron, making sure he was listening. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

“I will, you won’t-- please, Bill, just, now, _please_.”

Bill positioned himself between Ron’s knees and pulled his legs up so that Ron’s ankles rested on his shoulders. Sliding his hands down underneath Ron’s taut arse, he roughly yanked him closer, cock slipping between his cheeks.

He pushed forward slowly, the head of his cock slipping past the tight ring of muscle, burying himself in Ron inch by excruciating inch. Ron moaned and slammed his hips up to meet Bill’s, thrusting his entire length deep inside of him in one rough stroke.

Bill’s eyes flew open and he had to bite down on his lip to quiet the cry that threatened to burst forth. He rocked gently and felt Ron’s legs slide down and wrap themselves around his waist tightly, pulling him in further, deeper, until all he could feel was the pulsing heat surrounding him.

He pulled out gently, nearly all the way, and slowly drove back in, thrusting into Ron with long slow strokes, hitting that spot on every thrust if Ron’s bucking and moaning were any indication.

“Harder, Bill, harder …”

Bill complied. Not faster, but harder and deeper, until he couldn’t feel where he ended and Ron began. Until he could feel every molecule of the air around him.  Until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see.

“I love you Bill, love you so much.” Ron pulled desperately at his cock, head thrown back, chest heaving as he sobbed out his pleasure and Bill leaned forward, teeth clamping down on the column of Ron’s neck and swallowing every hum and moan that broke free. Ron came hard, panting and cursing, all over his own belly, Bill sliding against him, teeth and tongue nipping and licking at his throat.

Bill pushed back up onto his hands to steady himself and pounded Ron into the mattress, the ancient springs creaking and moaning in the quiet of the room, joined only by his own panting and Ron's quiet gasps, the shifting of the sheets beneath the two of them.

He looked down at Ron who was gazing up at him with nothing short of awe and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you, too,” he whispered, and thrust hard one last time, as his entire body seized with pleasure, sparks flashing behind his eyes as he spilled himself into Ron.

After a long moment, he collapsed down on top of Ron, his strength gone, his cock slipping out wetly. He could feel Ron’s fingers running through his long hair, tickling at the base of his spine as he stroked up and down.

“Love you,” Ron said again, pressing a chaste kiss to Bill’s sweaty temple.

“I know.” Bill answered into the quiet of the room.

“Don’t leave me,” Ron whispered.

Bill met Ron's eyes steadily and shook his head. “Never.”

...

Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest Bill Weasley woke with a start. There had been a battle only--he checked his watch in the dim moonlight--three hours before, surely this couldn’t be another one. He looked around, bleary-eyed, but the tent was silent around him, save the snores and tossing and turning of the other dozen or so men he was packed in with. He suddenly realized what had woken him and peeled his pajama bottoms away from his skin that was sticky with semen and slick with sweat. One word pulsed through his mind. _Ron_.

He pulled his pillow closer to him and stroked his fingertips along the seam, biting his tongue hard enough to stop the tears. _Ron is dead, you idiot. And even if he were alive he wouldn’t want anything to do with you, you sick fuck._

He bit down harder, but tears slid down his cheeks anyway, regardless of the blood seeping out of his raw tongue. _You let him down. You betrayed him._

Only then did he hear them. The forest sounds echoed through the camp as early morning twilight broke, and Bill could hear the distant footfalls that told him they were coming. More of them, they would never stop, there would always be more of them. Always. He glanced to his side, and sat up, yanking his robes over his shoulders and pulling his mask into place.

He stepped out into the clearing, his wand held tight in his fist, and saw them. There were hundreds of them, more than they could ever hope to overcome. Without thought he raced downhill toward the one that led them all. Sorrow and hatred and desperation rushing through his veins, making it impossible to stop, to think, to reconsider.

He ran to the one who would show no mercy.

He ripped off his mask and let him see his face.

Bill was dead before he hit the ground.

...

“It was Bill!” a woman screamed, falling to the ground, searching frantically for a pulse, though she knew there was no chance of finding one.

“I know, Hermione.” Harry Potter stood over the body, his voice cold and hollow. “It was so much less than he deserved.”


End file.
